This Thing, I Don't Know What It Is
by ereshai
Summary: I wrote this for the Inception Reverse Bang. The link to the art is: cunning-croft . livejournal . com/221363.html Just remove the spaces. Ariadne gets pulled into one of Eames' jobs. It doesn't look like it's going to end well.


_Okay. But I don't know where to start. I'm not a storyteller. There's a reason I'm an architect._

_I don't know much about him. We didn't exactly become best friends on the Fischer job. I saw him once or twice after that, but we didn't spend any time together. We knew each other. No, we knew _of_ each other._

_Okay, okay, I'll get on with it._

_I'll start with my vacation._

_It was really bright outside. I mean, when I left the airport. I couldn't really see anything for a moment. And I was so angry that the airline had lost my luggage. Isn't that such a stupid cliché? Anyway, I was pretty distracted. And then, there he was._

"Ari! How was your flight?" Suddenly, there was a warm hand on her hip and a soft kiss on her cheek.

"What?" Ariadne stepped back, away from the stranger's touch. Only it wasn't a stranger. "Eames, what are you doing here?"

"Now, darling, did you really think I would forget to pick you up? Is this what you think of me?" He looked around. "No luggage?"

"No, no luggage. What is going on?" What were the odds that his presence was just a coincidence?

Eames stepped closer and put his arms around her in a loose hug. "Just play along, will you?" he whispered in her ear. "The gentleman by the taxis – don't look – is a twitchy little fuck. I need a reason to be here that's nothing to do with him. You were sent by the gods in answer to my rather blasphemous prayers." Wow. Really a coincidence, then.

Ariadne belatedly returned his hug. "Are you involving me in something criminal?" she murmured.

"Only briefly. You don't mind, do you? I shall take you to dinner to make up for it." He stepped back and grinned at her.

"It better be a really nice restaurant." She reached out and brushed a bit of lint from his jacket. He threw an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the curb where several taxis were waiting.

"You know it doesn't matter to me if you walk about with nothing on whilst you're visiting, but really, not even a carry on?" His voice was a shade too loud and teasing. They were standing next to a balding man wearing glasses and a horrible plaid coat. Ariadne assumed this was Eames' target. He did look a little twitchy. He eyed them briefly, then resumed his anxious glances at the taxis.

"My luggage is somewhere in the South Pacific, apparently on a much needed vacation. The airline assures me it will arrive _soon_."

"Perhaps if they get their thumbs out of their arses. Shall I go in and sort them out?" Eames pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"No, I don't think that would help. Let's just get out of here." She shifted her weight and adjusted her purse. What were they waiting for?

"We'll make do, then. I'll lend you a shirt to sleep in." He tapped a cigarette out of the pack and put it to his lips. He was reaching for his lighter when she grabbed the cigarette and shoved it back in the pack.

"We agreed. You don't smoke around me." She wondered how to convey her allergy to smoke without blowing Eames' cover, but he only raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, I forgot, love. Bad habits die hard. If you were here more often, I'm sure I would remember."

She was saved from answering by the arrival of a hotel car. The twitchy man picked up the briefcase by his feet and got in. Eames watched the car pull away.

"That answers that question. Well, I must be getting on. I'll look you up later for that dinner." Eames flung himself into one of the waiting taxis. He gave her a little wave as it drove off.

Ariadne lifted her hand in response. Dinner. Right. He didn't even know where she was staying.

* * *

_I honestly thought that would be the end of it. Eames is what he is, and I knew he wasn't serious about dinner. So I wasn't expecting to see him again, unless it was by pure chance._

_I was renting a house during my stay, and a car, too, so I could get around. The house was a nice little place just outside of town, with a gorgeous view of the water and private access to the beach – anyway, a few days later, I went out to do a few errands when I ran into Eames again. Literally._

Ariadne had never driven a convertible before. Putting the top down had been a bit of a struggle, nowhere near as easy as the rental agent had made it look, but it was worth it. The sun was warm, the breeze was refreshing, and her hair was going to be a tangled mess by the time she got home. Not that she had anyone to impress with perfectly styled hair. She mentally added 'scarf' to her shopping list. Maybe driving gloves, if they weren't ridiculously expensive.

There wasn't an official posted speed limit, so she let loose a little on the drive into town. Definitely not good for her hair, but exhilarating all the same. She slowed as she approached an intersection on the outskirts of town; she had the right-of-way, but she'd seen how people drove on this stretch of road.

Her caution paid off. Another car came barreling down the cross street toward the intersection, swinging wide to make the turn into her street. She slammed on the brakes. The other driver did the same and they both came to a screeching halt, Ariadne's bumper only inches away from the other car's driver's side door.

She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and took several deep, shuddering breaths. She decided she could give herself a few moments to quietly freak out. It wasn't every day she was almost killed in a car accident, after all. As soon as she got her internal screaming out of the way, she was going to tear the other driver a new asshole.

"Ari, fancy running into you like this." Eames' amused voice cut through her inner litany of insults that she was planning to use to great effect.

"Eames? What the hell? What the hell!" Ariadne lifted her head and glared at him.

"I need a lift. Would you mind terribly?" He jogged around the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

"What's wrong with your car? You're just going to leave it there? In the middle of the road?" She shifted in her seat, easing upon the brake pedal, only to slam it back down again when the car started to move forward. There was a slight jolt when the bumper scraped against the other car. "Sorry, I may have scratched it."

"Oh, I don't mind. It isn't mine." He shrugged. "I really do need to be elsewhere, as quickly as possible. It might be best if you were elsewhere, as well."

"What did you do, Eames?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not a bloody thing. But there are a few people who would like to do bloody things to _me_, and they weren't that far behind. So, less talking and more driving, if you would be so kind." He craned his neck, looking in the direction from which he had come.

"Fine. But you are going to explain this to me. And you still owe me dinner." Ariadne put the car in reverse, angled it around the other car, and continued on her way into town.

"Certainly. I hadn't forgotten. I just need to run a quick errand in a few hours' time, and then I'm yours to do with as you will." He winked at her and sank low in his seat. "You might want to run a comb through your hair first."

* * *

_Of course, it wasn't a quick errand. And I didn't get an explanation. Or dinner. A sandwich from a vending machine does not count._

_Eames spent a lot of time looking at his watch. Oh, that was funny. Anyway, he came with me while I did my errands, which didn't take very long. It's a good thing I wasn't buying food. God, that would have made the whole situation that much worse. A rental car trunk full of rotting food? No, thank you. At least I got the car back the next day. _

_Like I said, my errands didn't take very long. We drove around for a while afterwards, looking at historical buildings. The church there is beautiful, by the way. You should see it. So, it was late afternoon when Eames asked if I would drive him to the ferry. I didn't understand why I couldn't have just driven him there right away, I mean, the ferry makes regular trips to the island. I also didn't understand why I had to get on the ferry with him. You see, _not _a quick errand. I figured out why it had to be that particular trip and why I had to be there fairly quickly though._

"Was that Mr. Twitchy?" Ariadne and Eames were leaning against the rail, Ariadne looking out toward the distant island, Eames facing the cars lined along the deck.

"Giving my wedding tackle a nickname already? Couldn't you come up with something a little less injurious to my ego? At least wait until you've had a look." He spoke almost absently, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Ha. Ha. You know what I mean. The man from the airport. He's wearing that plaid thing." She turned to mimic Eames' pose, arms folded across her chest.

"You're too clever for me." He pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, but dropped them back in again immediately.

"Are you going to explain anything at all?"

"Why would I do that? Look, I'm dying for a fag. I'll be over there with the rest of the lepers." He pointed at a group of people at the back of the ferry, all of them smoking. "Don't wander off, yeah?"

Ariadne let out a sigh as she watched him walk away. She wanted to see the island anyway.

The crossing was uneventful. Eames showed no interest in knowing Mr. Twi– Mr. Plaid's whereabouts, so she followed suit. She explored the ferry a little, since she had never been on one before.

When they finally disembarked on the island, Eames pulled out a brochure for a driving tour.

"Let's take in the local scenery." He directed her toward the first landmark.

Ariadne allowed him to dictate their course and how long they spent at each point of interest. He barely glanced at them, preferring to check his watch incessantly. She thought he might be waiting for the sun to go down.

She was proven correct when he directed her onto an overgrown dirt road that led through a sparse forest almost as soon as the sky darkened. The crawled along, the headlights barely illuminating the trail before them.

"Stop here." There were lights visible through the trees not too far away.

"Why do I have a feeling that Mr. Short, Bald, and Plaidsome has something to do with this?" Ariadne let her head fall back against the headrest.

Eames opened the glove compartment and pulled out a flashlight, leaving her to wonder exactly when and how it had been placed there. It hadn't been there yesterday.

"Are you coming, or would you rather wait here?"

"Why should you get to have all the fun? Let's go." Ariadne got out and waited for him in front of the car. "Lead on, MacDuff."

"And now you're misquoting the Bard. I may be forced to lose you amongst the trees." He switched the flashlight on and started walking toward the distant lights. She hurried to catch up to him, threading a finger through one of his belt loops as soon as she caught up with him.

* * *

_You probably know as much as I do about that night. We didn't actually see much; security guards chased us away before we got too close to the house. That really didn't seem to bother Eames, though. I was just happy there weren't dogs._

_By the time we got back to the dock, the last ferry had gone. There were a few places we could have stayed, or we could have slept in the car. But Eames decided we needed to _not_ be on the island, just in case someone was looking for us. He stole a motorboat, and he got us back to the mainland. He even took us right to the beach near my rental house. That's not as easy as it sounds. Once I was ashore, he pushed the boat out far enough that it would drift away. I wonder if the owner ever got it back._

Eames was soaked from the chest down after guiding the boat to open water, and then wading back to shore. It was the darkest hour of the night, and it made the walk to the house seem that much colder. Ariadne shivered in sympathy, and little from her wet shoes.

"Do you-" she began.

"Let's get me out of these wet things, hmmm? You haven't lost your house key, have you? That would be the perfect ending to our little adventure."

"Of course I have my key." Ariadne fished her key ring out of her purse, unlocked the door, and let them in. "Let me get you a towel."

She left him dripping in the foyer. She made her way through the dark hallway and into her equally dark bedroom.

"I'll just stand here in the dark, shall I?" he called after her.

"I didn't want to attract attention," she called back.

"From the fish? The local wildlife? Tree fairies? Your nearest neighbor is on the other side of a fucking forest."

She fumbled in the linen closet located in the master bathroom. Her fingers found terrycloth. She grabbed it and hurried back to Eames.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just a little paranoid. Like we're being watched, or something." She held the towel out to him, resisting the urge to throw it in his face.

"If we are being watched, they saw us arrive. Just turn on a bloody light, would you?" He grabbed the towel from her and she reached behind him to flip the light switch.

Eames had already stripped off his jacket and shirt, and he was drying his chest and shoulders. Ariadne bit back a laugh when she saw she had given him one of the aggressively floral-print towels she had bought a few days before.

"I wouldn't have thought these would be to your taste." He draped the damp cloth on the doorknob and unbuckled his belt. She whirled around to face the dark hallway when he reached for the button of his trousers.

"They were on sale. This place came furnished, but there was only one towel set. I didn't want to do laundry every day, so…" There was a splat as his wet clothing hit the floor.

"Fascinating. Now, could I trouble you for a shower?"

"Sure." Without looking back, she led him through the house to the guest bathroom, pointedly turning on every light as they went. "I'll get another towel for you, and I suppose you can borrow my robe until your clothes are clean."

"Dare I hope it's silky and skimpy?" He walked around her into the bathroom. She looked away, but not before she caught a glimpse of his naked ass from the corner of her eye.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's long and fluffy." Ariadne turned to go, mentally sorting through her laundry for anything she could safely wash along with Eames' clothes. She was almost at the end of the hallway when Eames spoke.

"Ariadne." She turned automatically. He stood in the doorway, only partially hidden by the door. He was…fit. Very fit. She raised a brow at him.

"You are allowed to look. I promise you won't offend my sensibilities."

"Well, now that I have your permission…" She rolled her eyes and turned away again, leaving him smirking after her.

* * *

_I fell asleep waiting for him to get out of the shower. He was gone when I woke the next morning, and my rental car was in the driveway. I guess the ferry starts running pretty early. He did leave a 'thank you' note for doing his laundry, along with a few dirty dishes in the sink._

_After that, I decided it was only a matter of time before I saw him again. He had set me up as part of his cover, and I was sure he would need me to achieve his ultimate goal. Not that I had any idea what that might be. But I was willing to do fake tourist couple things with Eames. The rest of my vacation was turning out to be really boring. _

_I was right. A few days later, Eames was at my front door. He seemed to know that the airline had finally recovered my luggage, because he asked me if I had packed anything fancy. Apparently, we were making an appearance at a casual get-together. We ended up going through my entire wardrobe. It didn't take long, and he reluctantly approved one of my outfits._

_Of course, Eames showed up in a suit and tie for this so-called casual party. We have very different definitions of the word._

"I feel really underdressed next to you." Ariadne shifted uncomfortably at Eames' side. They stood on the terrace outside the very house they had failed to sneak into only a few nights earlier. Eames had a glass in his hand, but he wasn't drinking.

"Hmm." He was staring out across the manicured lawn at the trees. The forest didn't look nearly as forbidding in the daylight.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, her voice low. "What am _I_ doing here?"

He finally turned his attention on her. "We're here to have a good time, of course." He raised his glass to his lips and drained it in one long gulp. "I have business to see to. You should mingle."

"Mingle."

"Yes, mingle." He turned and offered her his arm. She stared at him for a long moment, but when he said nothing more, she allowed him to escort her into the house.

"Should I mingle with anyone in particular?" she muttered through her fixed smile. He led her to the buffet, then leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"What a silly question," he said. "Talk to whomever you like." He winked at her and walked away.

Ariadne mingled. Office parties – and office politics – had prepared her well. She chatted, she smiled; she moved on to another group and did it again.

She was thinking of going back to the buffet when two suit-clad men approached her.

"You will come with us." A firm hand on her elbow stilled her automatic refusal. She nodded weakly.

They led her from the room. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what this is about?" she asked as they climbed a narrow staircase at the back of the house. Neither of them answered. Her stomach churned.

They finally stopped in front of a closed door at the opposite end of the house. One of the men knocked, and then opened the door without waiting for an answer. A firm hand on her shoulder moved her into the room.

It was sparsely furnished – bookcases lined two of the walls, and a row of filing cabinets sat behind a large desk. At a desk in the middle of the room sat Mr. Plaid. Her escorts led her to an uncomfortable looking chair in front the desk, one man flanking her as she sat, the other moving to stand by the door.

"So, Ariadne, is it? Yes, I know who you are. And I am aware of Mr. Eames, as well." Mr. Plaid, not actually wearing plaid, was going through a set of papers. He hadn't looked at her yet.

"I'm sorry we crashed your party. We didn't mean any harm." She decided to play it cool and clueless. She certainly had the clueless part covered.

"You will be dismayed to discover that Mr. Eames is nowhere to be found. He has abandoned you." He finally looked at her, his lips stretched in a humorless smile.

Her mouth suddenly dry, she could only stare at him. All of a sudden, Eames' failure to tell her anything made terrifying sense.

"You will tell us everything you know about your...companion." Mr. Plaid's voice was mild, but Ariadne heard the underlying threat.

"Okay." She seated herself in the chair he had indicated and took a deep breath. "But I don't know where to start…"

"And here we are. That's all I know." She looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

"Do you think this little ruse has gained you anything? You see, I am well aware that I am dreaming. Your accomplice will not succeed. My secrets are heavily protected." Mr. Plaid stood up and leaned over his desk. "Tell me what you are after. Tell me, or I will force it from you."

The man behind her grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the chair. He dragged her closer to the desk, and placed her hand on top of it, holding it there with an iron grip on her wrist.

"Tell me! What are you trying to steal from me?" Her captor pulled a gun and pressed it to her hand. She closed her eyes. She only had to hold out for a few more moments.

"I may not have been completely honest about my relationship with Eames. Or about anything I just told you." Soon, it had to be soon.

"Do not think to put me off with that paltry confession. Who hired you? Who is trying to buy my secrets?" The gun was digging into her flesh. She didn't want to be shot, even if it was only a dream. She tried to pull away, straining against the projection's hold.

"Actually, Eames and I have been working together for a long time." Strains of _O, Canada_ filled the air, and she suppressed a groan. Eames was still on his anthem kick. Literally.

"Do you think I will not do whatever I must to get what I want? Especially in a dream. I could do such things to you." He leered, and she shivered.

Ariadne abruptly stopped trying to pull away from the man holding her, and threw herself against him. Off-balance, he stumbled to the side, losing his grip on her. She hooked a foot behind his ankle and shoved him hard, knocking him to the floor.

"Don't kill her," Mr. Plaid shouted. She whirled around in time to see the other projection moving toward her, gun drawn. She backed away from all three men, stopping only when her legs hit a small table. She reached down to steady herself.

"Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be? You owe no loyalty to your employers. Your partner has abandoned you. Tell me what I want to know, and it will go well for you." Mr. Plaid sat down. "Put her back in the chair. We have much still to discuss."

The two men began walking toward her. Ariadne groped the tabletop behind her, her fingers finally finding what she was searching for. She grabbed the butt of the newly conjured gun and whipped it in front of her, firing at the projections. One of them fell to his knees, holding his shoulder, while the other one writhed on the floor, his hands clutching his stomach. She checked her watch.

"Okay, gotta go now." She closed her eyes.

Ariadne woke up to Eames smiling face.

"Thank god," she groaned.

"Was it terrible, then?" He removed the lead from her arm and started packing up their PASIV, his movements quick and efficient from long practice.

"Not as bad as it could have been." She sat up and glanced at their sleeping mark, who was dressed in the same plaid jacket he had worn in part of the dream. "He's kind of twisted. He knew it was a dream, though, so he may wake himself. We should get out of here."

"Stop mucking about and we can go." He took her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

"Did you get them?" she asked as they hurried out of the apartment.

He grinned at her and pulled her around a corner. "Have a look." He looked around quickly, and pulled a small velvet bag from his jacket pocket. She took it from him and opened it. Light glinted off of a handful of small, perfect diamonds. She smiled up at him. He leaned down and gave her swift kiss.

She closed the bag and handed it back to him. "Hopefully, he'll be so focused on who's supposedly trying to steal his secrets that he won't notice these are gone right away." The started walking again, trying to hurry without being too obvious about it.

"No hope of that." They went past the bank of elevators to the door leading to the stairwell.

"What did you do?" she asked as she followed him down the stairs.

"I may have left him a little note. To thank him for contributing to the cause." He reached back and grabbed her hand.

"Cause? What cause?"

"Save Manchester United Supporters From Themselves Fund."


End file.
